


Cake and a case

by GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver



Series: Sherlolly (if you squint) [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday Cake, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Sherlock Series 4 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:23:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9333230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver/pseuds/GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver
Summary: Spoilers for series 4 episode 2.Missing scenes of how Molly took Sherlock's drug abuse and of Sherlock and Molly having cake.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsPotterDrEw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsPotterDrEw/gifts), [ChiefDoctor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiefDoctor/gifts).



> Hey guys. Back at uni, but I am trying to be organised so I may have more time to write. I intend to finish my ongoing stories asap and will get around to it. 
> 
> I hope there will be more Molly this episode.
> 
> Can't wait to Sherlock this evening!!!! 
> 
>  
> 
> :)

It most certainly was an exasperating and draining day for Molly Hooper. Firstly, dealing with Sherlock on drugs again and secondly, the call from Greg saying that Sherlock had stabbed someone with a scalpel. She most definitely needed – no, deserved – a drink or two! However, she refrained from buying a bottle of wine. Alcohol is poison.  Though it was a poison that would grant her transient happiness – which is what she desperately needed – it was poison nonetheless. The idea of drinking felt revolting as opposed to refreshing after seeing Sherlock Holmes: the genius; the man who should know better and the man she loved, wasted – quite literally and metaphorically – on drugs. She didn’t want to fall to such low and pathetic depths. She didn’t want to crave anything. She didn’t have a death wish.

Alas – she was destined to suffer the torments of her day with no respite.

 Usually, she preferred her surroundings to be pristine and orderly, but it was a testimony to how demoralising her day was, that she threw her coat and scarf off instead of hanging it and that she walked straight to her living room with her shoes on.

She switched on the TV and turned up some music. She put some food in the microwave and picked up the day-old newspaper that she’d been intending to read the day before. Anything. Anything to distract herself. But nothing worked. Nothing. Still, adamant on her mind was the question: Why?

Why was Sherlock Holmes wasting his life? Why didn’t he seem to care? Why did she care so much? She placed the paper down and gripped the table with all the strength she could muster. No, she was not going to cry. She absolutely refused to. Tears were lost on Sherlock Holmes. She wished that instead of caring, instead of the roaring angry ripping through her, instead of the encompassing feeling of disappointment and hurt, that she could not give a shit. She wished that she could be numb and not possess human emotions like he most certainly didn’t!

Despite the war raging inside of her, Molly Hooper managed to sleep. Perhaps realising that sleep would be the only respite the world would grant her. That she’d wake up the next day, to face the dreary reality and the less time she spent sleeping would mean the more time she’d have to spend dealing with life.

 

**One day later**

 

 _It’s my birthday. Let’s meet up to have cake in two hours. I’ll explain everything then._ \- SH

12:50 pm

 

Molly Hooper stared at the message contemplating her next answers. On one hand, she wanted to say happy birthday and agree to meet up for cake. However, this was the weaker side of her that she was so fed up of the sociopath manipulating. She also considered ignoring the messaged, but it was no use. She knew very well that if Sherlock wanted her attention, he’d get it through any means. If text didn’t work, then she’d be expecting a rather irritated Sherlock to show up at some point and she would be inclined to slap him or cry. She’d rather not be face to face with him.

 

No Sherlock. _I am fed up of this and I’d rather not see you. I need space and time._ – MH, she almost sent. However, she quickly discarded the messaged. She laughed slightly harshly, certain that Sherlock would see her message and spout out something cruel and cutting such as she was being pathetic and acting as if they were in a relationship and he’d betrayed her. No, she couldn’t give him anything that would fuel his need to burn her.

 

 _Happy Birthday. Busy today_ – MH. 12:55 pm.

 

 _I know you’re not. Please. Please. I need to talk to you_ – SH. 12:56pm.

 

She sighed heavily. She had never been able to not give Sherlock Holmes something he had needed. (He on the other hand rarely ever gave her what she needed).

 

Fine – MH. 1:00 pm, she conceded.

 

**At the cake shop.**

 

 

Molly had to rush and get Sherlock a birthday present. She had no idea when his birthday was. She’d been silly enough to ask once. It was early on after she’d just met him. He actually looked at her then – she thought her heart might stop seeing as he hardly ever looked at her. His gaze was not soft as she had always dreamt it would be, but it was rather cutting.

“I told you that I’d prefer not to be disturbed by irrelevant chitter chatter,”

“Sorry, I was just- “Her gaze dropped instantly and she got back to her own work, heart beating ferociously and stained with mortification.

She had learnt since the Christmas party many years ago that she shouldn’t wrap presents for Sherlock. She never wanted to suffer such blatant humiliation again and so she would never give him the opportunity to analyse her wrapping skills.

Frankly, she’d debated whether he deserved a present at all. Whether she should actually bother getting him something when he didn’t seem to care anyhow. There was so much that Sherlock Holme’s didn’t deserve; her, her kindness; love and a present. However, she got one because she didn’t want to question what if. What if, one day she was seriously just so fed up that she decided that she would leave him for good? She knew that if that day came, perhaps it would be infinitely more painful than his presence. It would be like starting off again and it was scary. Life, unfortunately, was as ever, confusing.

 

He was in the café before her. Sat, staring solemnly out of the café. He saw her instantly as she walked in. Their eyes met and he smiled at her. Genuinely smiled at her. She walked over to him, uncertainly. He hardly ever smiled at her the way that he was now. His greenish blue eyes were soft – and not piercing as she was accustomed to. His lips were curled slightly.

“Shall we order some cake?” She asked.

“Yes, after, sit down please,” he said, indicating the seat opposite him.

“Why am I here Sherlock?” She asked without stuttering or beating around the bush. She was tired. So tired and she didn’t want to play their usual games where she was a tiny little mouse, scared, not confident and squeaking.

“I… I… A lot has happened recently and I thought I should explain what has been happening,” And with that, he launched into the story about his case. About trying to save John. About the great – and perhaps near fatal – lengths that he had to go to ensure that his best friend was alright.

At the end, Molly was rather conflicted with emotions. It was rather beautiful – Sherlock, going to such lengths for someone. Well, not just someone. A tiny bit of her was hurt that he hadn’t told her beforehand; that instead of sparing her the pain and agony, he let her believe that he was back on drugs. A larger part of her was sad. Just so sad that life worked out in such a way. That Mary was dead and that reality was so bleak and dreary. There was an urge to cry. To cry inconsolably, and then to laugh. However, Molly refrained from doing so.

“This experience… Mary dying and saving John... it has really opened my eyes,” Sherlock said after a while. The words came out rather quietly, but Molly heard every word as she was listening with rapt attention.

“I wouldn’t have liked to think that I could be a victim to sentiment or emotions, but I have to accept that I am. Feelings are still a bit foreign to me, but…”

Molly Hooper smiled at him. Eyes, filled with tears that she had no idea had fallen. It’s funny in a not so funny way, but she had always dreamed that Sherlock would something like that. In a different context obviously - not having faced all the grief of losing a friend. She was proud.

“John said that I should get some of what he and Mary have... had. He reckons that it would help," Sherlock announced. She could tell that he was trying to come across as nonchalant, but there was something... something a little tense with his words. Perhaps nervousness... but Molly couldn't fathom why because if she knew Sherlock, then he would have brushed the words away without as much as a thought.

"I’m learning Molly Hooper,” He sighed. At which point, he took her hands from under the table and held them. Molly gasped at the sudden intimacy. She was now staring at Sherlock and he was smiling softly at her and she could feel her heart stop. “Give me some time. I know I can be selfish and mean… and you can’t expect me to change into something I am not. But I will try and be better for you,” he whispered.

 


End file.
